The Case of the Golden Finch
by Ecila Lidell
Summary: After the Scandal in Belgravia, John found out Sherlock's involvement with Irene Adler even before the case, and now he's determined to know what's going on.
1. Chapter 1

"_Aaaaaaaah" That sound again. _I thought as I glanced over the source of that rather indelicate and inappropriate sound, which is now on Sherlock's hand.

That phone would time to time make that sound, like perhaps on a normal morning like this when Sherlock is busy looking over his mail with a cup of coffee and me reading the daily newspaper or sometimes on a not so normal day when in a middle of a chase, or a case from Lestrade, but Sherlock always makes sure to answer it. Well he answers all messages that are sent to him. He even makes it to a point that he always have the last word, probably his idea of a competition, but this is different. Even in a middle of a case, or when in his mind palace he would drop everything he is doing to answer that text message.

I never knew the sender, he refuses to give me information or always avert the subject so I am left to deduce on my own. All I could come up with is that it is most likely a woman. _Could it be his mother?_ I've never seen his mother before or any of his family members except for Mycroft. _But nah,_ I highly doubt that he would choose that ringtone for his mother or any family member on that matter.

"Why does your phone make that sound?" I asked him. "I already told you, someone's idea of a joke." He answered rather irritated but without looking up from his laptop. "But why don't you change it?" I asked again trying to get as much information on the sender.

"Too troublesome." Was all he said.

"Who is it from anyway?" I am not giving up just yet. "The Woman." He said.

"What woman? It would help if you could you be more specific." I am starting to get irritated seeing how this conversation isn't going anywhere. "Who else? The Woman, woman." He said equally irritated for he was already looking up from his laptop, wait, that's my laptop. I shrug then went back to my newspaper, I'm wasting my time. I am not getting an answer from this man. We continued our business until we heard Mrs. Hudson shout from the kitchen.

"Boys! You got another one!"

* * *

"Now start talking and don't be boring." said Sherlock Holmes impatiently to our new client. The client started narrating his story, he said that he was trying to fix his engine when he saw a man standing by the river. When the engine blew up, the man was already lying on the ground, dead. The murderer was gone along with the murder weapon.

Sherlock stood up and went to his room to get his laptop then he handed it to me. I gave him a puzzled look. He just stood there with the laptop on his hand. "Take it and treat it like it was me."

"What?"

* * *

I finally arrived at the crime scene. As I walked out of the cab, I saw a man walking towards me, _he must be in charged. _He smiled at me and said "Mr. Holmes…" before he finished his sentence I shook his hand "Dr. Watson, are you set up for a Wi-Fi?"

After setting up the laptop and logging in on Skype. Sherlock finally connected. His face appeared from my screen and it seems like he was not wearing anything aside from a bed sheet to cover his body.

"and why are we doing this?" I asked. "We agreed that I will not be taking more than six cases, this is the seventh. I am not going out of the house." _When did we even agree on that? _I didn't argue further because I have learned that arguing with Sherlock Holmes will not get me anywhere."Show me the crime scene"

I was walking near the river while the inspector follows behind me. "I say, the witness is the murderer" said the inspector trying to show himself on the screen. Sherlock scoffs at his remark. "Pass the laptop to him." He said. "Sherlock I have a mute button and I will use it." I wouldn't want to get my laptop broken because of another one of Sherlock's very unpleasing display of intelligence. "Well, let him check the streams and he would understand." He was about to say more when Sherlock suddenly turn around to look at a couple of men in an expensive looking black suit until the connection cut off.

"Sherlock? Sherlock? What's happening?"

"Dr. Watson, it's for you." Said one of the police, while holding a phone. I held out my hand. "Oh thank you." I said. "No sir, the helicopter."

* * *

I walked towards the lounge where one of the assistants led me, and then I saw Sherlock still in his sheet. I looked around uneasily then I sat beside him. "Uuuum, what are we doing in Buckingham palace?" I asked still looking around. "I don't know." Sherlock answered without looking at me. "Oh." I said, then there was silence.

"I am fighting an urge to steal an ashtray." I finally said. There was a long pause then we started laughing like little kids. "Here to see the queen?" I added. Before, Sherlock could answer Mycroft entered the hall. "Most likely." Then we started laughing again.

"Could you two please start acting like grown ups." Mycroft scolded then another person entered the hall. The discussion started with an attempt of Mycroft to put clothes on Sherlock, which eventually he won, although with a "little" bit of resistance from Sherlock. Mycroft then showed a picture of a woman by the name of Irene Adler, professionally called, The Woman or Dominatrix, and apparently, as Sherlock deduced is in possession of some compromising photographs.

"Just give her what she wants" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "know when you are beaten." He said.

"Well, we've already talked to her but she does not want anything. She said she needs it for 'protection'. Besides, she is your responsibility." Sherlock smirked at his brother's statement. "Ahh, power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Alright, I'll take the case." Sherlock stood up and I followed him. "Send me the details over my phone."

* * *

"So what? Are we just going to walk in there and ask for the photographs?" I asked as we walked on the street where the said Irene Adler lives.

"Yep." He said and rang the doorbell.

A woman answered, "Mr. Holmes, my mistress is expecting you." The woman opened the door, who apparently is not Irene Adler then led us to the living room. We sat on the couch silently.

"So, did you made an appointment with Ms. Adler before coming here?" I asked. "Nope. It seems like she knows we're coming." He answered. "Oh." was all I was able to come up with.

After a few minutes a woman entered the room. "Mr. Holmes." She said and my jaw dropped. _She's bloody naked. _She went in front of Sherlock "So how did you do it?" she said as she sat on the couch across ours. "Excuse me?" Sherlock looked at her puzzled but unfazed by the fact the she's naked._ Well He's Sherlock Holmes._ "The man by the river with the missing killer and murder weapon." She said. "That's not what I came here for." Sherlock said. The woman scoffed "Oh I know, you're here for the photographs but that's never gonna happen, so might as well have a little chit chat."

"Do you wanna wear something? I don't know like a tissue perhaps?" I finally said, feeling very uneasy with a naked woman in the room. Irene Adler smirked and the stood in front of me. "Why? are you feeling exposed?" I looked at her face, trying to fight the urge to look down. Sherlock stood up and offered her his coat."Oh why, thank you dear." She said as she went back to her chair.

"Well, it was very transparent the moment that I saw the crime scene" Sherlock started. "Just like how the photographs are in this room." Sherlock said. Irene Adler flinched "But how?" Sherlock stopped walking then looked at her. "So they really are in this room. John, man the door and don't let anyone in." I followed and went out of the door.

I took one of the magazines and started setting it on fire to trigger the smoke alarm, as Sherlock instructed. "John, you can turn it off now." I heard Sherlock shouted and before I was able to do anything, a group of men entered from the second floor and shoot the alarm. "Thanks." I said.

* * *

The woman and me were put on our knees while our captors was forcing Sherlock to come up with the code. Sherlock insisted that he doesn't know the code but our captors threaten to blew my head if he does not open the safe. The woman and Sherlock exchanged glances and he unlocked the safe. Just before he opened it, the two exchanged glances ones again and then he suddenly opened the lock firing a shot to the man who was holding me. We took the chance to put the men down. We went upstairs and we found Irene Adler's assistant on the floor. I checked her pulse to see if she was breathing.

"Oh don't worry she's used to that." Irene Adler said without a hint of worry.

"I'm going to get the first aid." I said and hurried downstairs. After I found the box containing the first aid in the kitchen I hurried up but I saw Sherlock on the floor who seemed to have been drugged. I ran to him to see what's going on.

"Take care of him, make sure. He doesn't choke on his own vomit." The woman said as she went to the window. "See you later, Mr. Holmes." and she's gone.

* * *

I put Sherlock on his bed. The drug doesn't seem lethal but he has to rest for the night. He kept looking for Irene Adler and he kept saying things that has not much sense. I told him that Ms. Adler has gotten away and that no one knows where she is now and that he has to rest. Sherlock finally gave in and went to sleep. I went back to my room and little did I know that the very next morning would change my whole image of Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

I got up from my bed the next morning and went to the living room. Before I got in I saw Sherlock's arm, from the little opening of the door, resting on the desk and he appears to be sitting. _The drug had probably worn off. _

I opened the door to the living room to fully see Sherlock but what I saw made my jaw dropped as Sherlock Holmes was kissing a woman. The Sherlock Holmes, kissing A woman, and it's not just any woman, a dominatrix and a black mailer woman woman!

The two looked at me when they heard the door opened. Sherlock just went back to his laptop like nothing happened. Irene Adler just smiled at me, "Hello again Dr. Watson." She said. I looked at her then at Sherlock then to her again. "I missed something didn't I?" I said sounding really anxious and confused, I might had been drugged as well, as I am seeing a hallucination of Sherlock kissing an Irene Adler. "uuuum, Sherlock what's happening?" I heard Irene Adler suppressed a laugh.

"What do you mean, what's happening?" Sherlock asked as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. "You're kissing Irene Adler." I said trying to make sense of the situation. Sherlock raised a brow. "And your point is?" He said. "Well, are you by any chance? Started a relationship after yesterday? Or did she drug you again and forced you to be in a relationship with her? So now you're kissing her?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Why wouldn't we be? She's my wife." He said in a matter of fact tone. Like what I was asking is very obvious and ridiculous.

Wait. Did I just hear him said wife? No, It cannot be. It must have been ripe, or hype or wide like the room is wide Sherlock has to kiss her. My thoughts were cut off when I heard Irene Adler approach.

"I believe we have yet to be formally introduced Dr. Watson. Although I've been in this house for a couple of times but I usually come late and you're already in bed so I never had a chance to introduce myself, and please do excuse my husband for the lack of sense of community." She said as she held out her hand to me. "Irene Adler Holmes. It's nice to finally meet you Dr. Watson, I am very fond of your blog." She said smiling at me.

So he really did say wife. Sherlock Holmes has a wife and not just any woman but a black mailer and a notorious dominatrix, who always finds a way to be involved in scandals among the great families in Britain as far as the news are concerned. How come I never knew? I am living with him and yet I never knew and there wasn't even a hint. It took awhile until the realization came. _Ahhh, the ringtone. _


	2. Chapter 2

I am feeling mixed emotions as of the moment.

I glanced at the two figures in front of me who are acting as if everything is normal and that I did not find out a shocking revelation that Sherlock Holmes, The Sherlock Holmes, who two hours ago, I thought was not capable of sentiments, is married.

Sherlock was going over his emails, Irene Adler was sitting on Sherlock's chair, legs curled, looking at her nails; and me, sitting on my chair looking at both of them. I don't know what to think about the situation. Part of me is angry with Sherlock for keeping his marriage a secret while part of me is extremely curious about how did all of this happened.

I have three hypothesis; one, Sherlock probably decided to marry her out of a case, it seems like he would very much do that. Second, Irene Adler probably drugged him with some kind of love potion or whatever it is that made "sentiments" possible for The Sherlock Holmes. Lastly, Sherlock is actually a human computer made by Irene Adler. That would explain his impossibly overwhelming intelligence. Seeing that the last two hypotheses are very unlikely, but I am still considering the possibility of the last hypothesis, I am left with the first. But still… never mind, I'll just ask.

"ahem." I cleared my throat. The two finally stopped doing what they were doing and looked at me. "So…" I started. "You two are married?"

Irene Adler let out a laugh while Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back to his laptop. "I believe I said she's my wife John. I don't think you'll get a wife without getting married." He said sounding really irritated. "But you told me before that you don't do girlfriends." I said.

" Yes John, I don't do girlfriends. I have a wife."

"So, how did you guys meet?" I heard Irene Adler chuckled. "It was a case." She said, smiling at me. She stopped piling her nails and turned to look at me, it seems like she noticed my distress and decided to answer my questions since I will not be getting anything decent from Sherlock Holmes.

"So you guys got married for a case?" Irene Adler laughed and I can feel Sherlock roll his eyes. "Oh please John." He said. "But you're Sherlock Holmes! You don't do sentiments, moreover you decided to marry a temptress/ dominatrix/ blackmailer woman, who just dated two nobility at the same time." I looked at Irene Adler. "No offense." She gave me an amused smile. "Non taken, Dr. Watson."

"It's one of those things you mundane call, what was that again… ah… love is blind." He said uninterestingly.

"You don't do that." I said. "It's irrational."

"It's healthy to balance things out John."

There was a long silence before I decided to speak again; I'm not giving up just yet. "So, what was the case about?" I asked facing Irene.

"There was a man, by the name of Mr. Finch. Decided to invite eleven people, the best in their fields, in his rest house in a secluded coast in South Carolina." Irene Adler stated. "Me and Mr. Holmes were part of those eleven people."

"And what happened?"

"There was a storm, making us all stranded there, then people started dying." Irene Adler said, looking at me with a rather amused expression.

"Whoa, that looks like something that would happen in mystery books. So Sherlock solved the crime?"

The Woman laughed, then she stood up and rested her chin on Sherlock's head. "Yes, eventually. Well at first he was accused, you know his character. Acting in an unsuspicious manner is not really his field of expertise."

"Well, the extent of their stupidity is overwhelming."

"I never doubted him thou. I knew he was going to solve the crime." Irene Adler said looking at me, chin still on Sherlock's head. It's very weird seeing Sherlock "intimate" with someone, well it's the most intimate act I've seen Sherlock did, aside from the shocking kiss earlier.

"Then you guys started dating after that?"

"After that I texted him for a month." Irene said finally going back to Sherlock's chair.

"You flirted with Sherlock Holmes?" I blurted out, amused with the idea.

"AT Sherlock Holmes, he never replied." She said.

"So how did you guys got together?"

"After a month, I stopped texting. You see Dr. Watson, my job would time to time require me to leave the country. Then the month after that I was surprised to receive a txt from him, asking for my help on a case." She said.

"Sherlock Holmes asking for help on a case?" _Sherlock has too much pride for that._ "I found it peculiar as well and while we were solving the case, he wasn't helping much. After we got the perpetrator I found out that that was his way of proposing. He asked me to marry him. We lived together for a year but because of my work and for the safety of both of us, we had to live separately and that was the time you boys met. "

"Wait. So you guys met on a case, texted for a month, which he did not reply, had no contact for the next month then he suddenly asked to help on a case, which was actually his way of proposing, then you guys got married?" I narrated as if they just told me a ridiculous story, which they did. "I believe that was what she just told you John."

"But you tried to expose her!" I said pointing at Sherlock, reminding him at his attempt to outwit her and retrieve pictures. "And you drugged him." I said looking at Irene Adler.

"It was for work John." He said.

"Yes Dr. Watson. It was purely professional."

"But you two are married for God's sake!" I protested. The two looked at me as if I just said something crazy.

"Irrelevant." They said in unison. I'm starting to wonder why I found it hard to believe that they were married, they're a spitting image of each other!

"But…"

"and I believe you're late." I looked at my watch. "Oh crap" _he's right._ I said then hurried out the door. "This discussion is not yet over!" I shouted before I finally closed the door behind me.

* * *

Irene Adler walked towards the window and watch John hails a cab. "He's such an amusing fellow." She said smiling while looking at him gets into a cab.

Sherlock followed Irene to the window and held her waist giving her tiny kisses on the neck. Irene grinned still looking at the window "care for dinner Mr. Holmes?" she said. "I believe dinner is supposed to be serve at night. It's still eleven in the morning." He said dragging her towards the table. When her back touched the edge, he held her waist and sat her on the table. "I don't mind thou." He said as he started kissing her neck.

"Who do you think Mr. Finch was?" Irene asked.

Sherlock paused and smiled.

* * *

**_Flash back two years ago_**

**Sherlock's Residence**

Sherlock grabbed the mails before entering his flat. He sat down on his chair and browse over the newly arrived mails _bills, bills, Lestrade, Mummy, bills… _Sherlock paused as he saw an unfamiliar letter. It was a white high quality envelope with a golden finch seal. It has nothing written on it except his name written in script at the back of the envelope.

He opened the letter and found an invitation to a rest house on the coast of South Carolina signed by a man named Mr. Finch. Attached to it was a plane ticket along with the address of the rest house and the date it was going to be held, which was the coming week. _What did they say about the weather in South Carolina next week? _

**Irene's residence**

Irene went inside her flat and just before she removes her stiletto she found a letter addressed to her on the table. She opened it and found an invitation to a rest house in the coast of South Carolina. _Isn't there a storm passing there next week? _

Irene smiled and looked out the window.

_This is going to be interesting. _They both thought.


	3. Chapter 3

_2 years ago, South Carolina_

**_Irene's POV_**

It's been awhile since I've been to the ocean. I knew that the house would be secluded, but I did not expect that it would be in a completely separate island. After my arrival in South Carolina, we had another two hour drive before we have reached the coast. After we had arrived, they brought me to a dock and what was waiting there was a luxury yacht, which was suppose to bring me to the island where the rest house is. There were few staffs inside; the captain with three more crews and two maids to tend to my needs, but I was the only guest in the yacht. Mr. Finch sent a ticket with an earlier time, which I presume was the same for all the other guests, but I was scheduled for a performance in the morning so I had to come late.

I only knew Mr. Finch by name. Well specifically I think everyone who's in Britain knows that name. He's one of the most influential people in the country after all. He owns the biggest toy factory in Britain, The Golden Finch. Nonetheless nobody had seen his face, even those who work for him claims that they never had a glimpse of their employer. He would also always host a grand party, I've even been on them for a couple times, but he's never present. _He's a mystery._

Of course, if there is mystery there are plenty of rooms for imagination. Some says he's a veteran who fought during the World War II, stole treasures from the raid and started his company. There were also some who says that he's a young and tremendously hot bachelor, who's into kinky bed experience. Oh ladies please, but if that was true, I'd like a challenge with him and prove who's the real dominator here.

I also heard interesting claims such as he made a contract with a witch in exchange of his face for ten gold bars. That would explain why he could not show himself in public. Either way nothing much is known about him. All I know is that he owns the Golden Finch and I am invited to a dinner party in his rest house.

Part of the reason why I obliged to such a suspicious invitation is that part of me is curious about his identity, but I am more curious in what is going to happen in that mansion.

I went out to the deck to look at the ocean. From our position, it doesn't seem that we're near the island since I'm not yet seeing anything that resembles an island, _unless we're going to Atlantis_. I heard footsteps nearing so I turned and saw the maid holding a glass of yellow liquid, which I presume is lemonade judging from the color and the lemon at the bottom of the glass.

"Would you like some lemonade Miss Adler?" She said politely. I smiled and took the glass from her. "Thank you dear." I said then taking a sip at my lemonade.

"Do you mind if I ask something?"

"Please do Ms. Adler." I didn't notice it a while ago but if I look at her closely she's quite adorable, _oh I'd love to see her cry_, but that would have to wait for a while. "What do you know about Mr. Finch?" She paused to think. "Nothing really, Ms. Adler. Even the staffs in the mansion have not seen his face, except the head butler sir Garland."

"Oh I see." _Hmmmm. So even the staffs have not seen his face._

"I'm sorry I'm not much of a help my lady." She said apologetically. "Don't mind it sweetheart, thank you." The maid lowered her head and left. I smiled then turned back to the ocean as I am starting to see the shadow of an island, _it seems like we're not going to Atlantis after all._

I remember the weather forecast said about a storm tomorrow. I smiled. _If that's the case wouldn't we be trapped here?_ Trapped in an isolated island with an invisible host. Well I was pretty bored so might as well kill some time,_ I hope you don't disappoint me Mr. Finch._

* * *

After I went down from the yacht I could already see a clear view of the mansion. It was Victorian styled and judging from the walls it seems like it is not younger than a hundred years old, probably an heirloom or something along the line. The garden was spacious and aside from a ginormous chessboard on the right side, everything else is symmetrically designed, with parallel rose bushes stretched towards the main door.

_I am impressed._ Everything is perfect, even the servants fits into the picture. I feel like I time traveled from the late 1800s and it definitely feels like a decent murder would happen anytime. _Oh such a delightful scene!_

I made my way towards the mansion and when I got to the door a young man was waiting for me. Judging by the way he is dressed he must be a butler. He seems to be in his mid 20s. He has blue eyes, raven hair combed back fixed with wax and he's facial features are soft but there's a feeling of sexiness to it. He's quite good looking if I might say, I'm not fond of kids but I don't mind giving him a little 'service'. Aside from his good looks he is also well mannered, too well mannered on that matter, that if he wasn't wearing a uniform I would have mistaken him for a nobleman, but seriously, a butler on this day and age, he's even wearing a tail coat, _how much classic can our Mr. Finch gets._

"Good afternoon Ms. Adler." He greeted. "In behalf of my master I would like to thank you for coming." He said politely with utmost grace, like a refined gentleman. "My name is Garland and I am the head butler. Would you want me to escort you to your room first or would you like a tour on the mansion?" Oh so he's the head butler. I was expecting someone older; he's quite young for that position.

"Thank you Garland, but I would first want to meet the other guests."_ And see what sort of people, Mr. Finch had chosen to cast on his little 'play'_. I said smiling at him. "Very well, Ms. Adler. They are in the lounge, this way please." He took my trench coat and then led me in to the mansion.

The interior of the mansion was equally as grand as its exterior, and Victorian style through and through. The first thing that I saw when we enter the house was wide stairs, classic. Since he did not lead me upstairs I am presuming that the guestrooms are there.

We went to the left side of the mansion and entered a hallway. Although it was well lit, there's something about the hall that makes it dark, probably the wallpapers since it has the same color as a page from a very old book. It was also empty except for old wall lamps. After a few more steps we passed by a big portrait. I examined the picture on the wall and realized that it's a painting. It's a painting of a boy, not older than seven years of age, handsome features and fair skinned. Although I cannot tell the exact color of his hair but it's definitely a dark shade.

"Garland, who's the child in this painting?"

"It's the first generation head of the Golden Finch group madam." He said.

"I see, from which generation my host is then?" _that's peculiar, why put a painting from his childhood?_ "My apologies Ms. Adler but we servants are not privilege to speak of our employer." He said politely with a gentle smile. "Don't worry about it." I said and we continued walking.

_He flinched at my question._ There's something about the way he looks at this kid in the portrait, reverence? Adulation? It doesn't seem to be the case. Which is it? I paused and tried to remember, from the books I've read, all the possible emotion that his facial expression could signify. _Ahhhh familiarity. This kid is our Mr. Finch, but why does he have to hide it?_

"Are we waiting for other guests?" I asked. "No madam, you are our last guest to arrive." He said. "Are they all in the lounge?" he stopped in front of a door. "Yes miss Adler, everyone is inside."

He opened the door and waited for me to go in. "If you ever need something miss Adler, please do not hesitate to call me or any of the house servants." He said still holding the door open. "Thank you Garland." I said and smiled at him. "Then I shall take my leave Miss Adler, enjoy your stay." He uttered as he lowered his head and closed the door.

* * *

_Four people, seven people, no nine people are in this room aside from me_: three women and six men. There are four people standing in front of the door. Two men are looking at a painting of the last supper, hung at the center of the room, and another two chatting, a man and a woman, a few meters away from the other two. Five people are on the right side of the room. Three of them are sitting on a big couch, one woman and two men. Across them is a woman sitting on one of the two single couches, separated by a side table and a vase of roses. The last man was standing in front of the glass windows. The left side of the room was empty, with just two vacant single couches, with abnormally tall backseats, facing a fireplace.

The one on the left, who's looking at the painting, is a tall blonde English man. He seems to be in his mid 30s with blue eyes, soft blonde neatly styled hair and well shaved. He's wearing a relatively expensive looking suit, if not a lawyer he's probably a government official. The one on the right is an American, blonde but of lighter shade, a few inches shorter than the man on the left, he's dressed casually with jeans and blue sweater he isn't as well shaved but he doesn't look sloppy but that suppressed smug of his, he seems to be trying to befriend the English gentleman but is just definitely trying to unravel his secrets. I'm not very fond of this kind of people; this guy must be a free-lance journalist and an unethical one on top of that. _I know his kind and I know what he likes._

The other two people in front of the door, I am familiar with. The man, Vince Ryder, is a well-known English model, tall with a messy dark hair and a very handsome face but I'm not really a fan of his. He's quite the narcissistic and arrogant type, totally not sexy. The woman he's talking to with long blonde wavy hair on a figure hugging red dress paired with an equally red lipstick and red stiletto, is an actress Caroline Rayne, I don't know her that much but I've seen her on one of the parties I attended.

I also know all three people on the big couch. The lady, Vivian Tracey-Howland, is an old friend of mine. She's in her 40s, with short brunette hair. Vivian is a well-known designer and owns one of the high-class designer bags, Tracey. She's a very uptight woman thou, always well mannered, and a woman of immense pride who only mingle herself with people of high social status.

The man beside her, on a white polo with a green over shirt, is her husband Dr. Sanford Howland. He has dark hair and brown eyes. He's like the total opposite of his wife with a very humble and gentle personality.

The stout man who looks like in his 50s, on the other side of Vivian is a famous director, Ronald Davies. Ronald is also an old friend of mine, atleast that's what he calls me but I prefer acquaintance. Although his skills are genuine as a director, he's not really the most admirable as a person. There are rumors about him offering a role to new actresses in exchange of a night with him. I don't know if they are true but it's very probable since I've experienced his 'fondness' of women first hand.

On the single couch across, was a young woman, not older than 25 years of age, black haired parted into two braids. She's wearing a big round unfashionable glasses paired with equally unfashionable gray grand mother sweater and an unfashionable long flower print skirt that stretches up to her ankle, she's even wearing and unfashionable socks and unfashionable slippers. You get the picture, I don't even think if unfashionable is the right word. _God, this child needs a new wardrobe._

She has her palms together, slouching and looking down. Indication of low self-esteem, she's most likely not used to mingling with people. Basing from her watch she doesn't seem to be unemployed, her work must require her minimum contact with people, most likely an author or an artist. It's either that or she's from a rich family but I don't think Mr. Finch would invite a person that has no special skill or whatsoever.

The man who's standing in front of the window is wearing a full suit and a pair of spectacles. He has dark hair but I cannot see much from my position since he's facing the window, but I think I've seen him in the tabloids, something about a big time investor and the youngest person to make a name in the business world.

When I entered the room all of them stopped to look at me. Well, I have to admit I'm very hard to ignore, my face, figure and a figure hugging black dress that reveals half of my back and a matching black pumps, completely does the trick. Don't get me wrong, I'm not bragging but I'm not the type to be humble either. The first one to greet me was Ronald Davies. The stout blonde man in his purple stripe suit went up from his sit and flashed me a grin that stretched from ear to ear showing his two golden k9s.

"Irene Adler! I am delighted to see you here! It's been ages!" he said while forcefully shaking my hand. I smiled at him politely and greeted back. "It's nice to see you as well Ronald." At the mention of my name everyone became interested and started flocking at me, except the man by the window, the shady woman by the couch and Caroline Rayne.

"Irene! It's nice to see you here." Said Vivian, she gave me a peck on the cheek. "Vivian, it's been a while." I said smiling at her. "Yes dear you're stunning as always!"

"Irene Adler? The Irene Adler? As in the opera singer?" Said the shorter blonde man, who I presumed to be a journalist. "Is it true that you've dated the prime minister?" he said, everyone flinched and Vivian raised an eyebrow.

"I leave that to your deductions." I said seductively and winked at him.

"Harvey!" called the man he was talking to moments ago before I entered. "You're being rude to Ms. Adler!" He went towards the man and when he realized he had caught all our attention he became embarrassed but managed to introduce himself. "Atty. Hector Kay. Pleasure to meet you miss Adler." He said shyly holding out his hand. A lawyer it is. I shook his hand and smiled at him. "Pleasure is mine Mr. Kay." I said.

"I do apologize for my late introduction Ms. Adler, Harvey Vance. I also apologize for my rude question. Call it a professional instinct." The other blonde said offering his hand. I shook his hand and smiled politely. "Irene Adler. I see you're a journalist."

"Ignore him Irene, there's nothing professional about that man." Said Ronald. _I sense hostility, I love it, it's the first step to murder._ "That's harsh Mr. Davies, after all the time we spent." Mr. Vance said putting his arm around Roald's shoulder. "And I'm not the only unprofessional person in this room, we all have little secrets." The journalist continued grinning malevolently at Ronald. Ronald shoved off his arm and went back to the couch. "Please refrain from touching me, it's unnerving." Ronald said. He should be careful if I were him, it seems like Ronald is not the only one who dislike our journalist, as there were many who flinched at his remark. It's getting more interesting.

"Please gentlemen, don't shame yourselves in front of the ladies." Said the model Vince Ryder while cutting through the crowd that surrounded me. "Vince Ryder." The young model said as he kissed my hand. "It's a pleasure to see a stunning beauty, miss Adler. I've always been a fan." He said suggestively. I removed my hand and smiled at him. "The Pleasure is mine Mr. Ryder."

We heard a scoff and all turned to the source of the voice. "Look at her, trying to be humble on the attention she's getting while in truth she must love men scrambling all over her." Said the blonde actress Caroline Rayne. I have to admit, I do love attention but I don't think I need that much effort for it. I'm used to the adulation that people showered me with and I'm also used to the envy and hatred that goes along with it.

I grinned then went in front of the blonde. "Oh, a feisty one. I love the feisty kind, they're just so… adorable." I said smiling at her seductively. She blushed then I heard a laugh, I searched for the source of the voice and then there I saw the man, by the fireplace, tall, dark curly hair in a long coat and purple polo._ 10 people._

"You would have to excuse her, she's having a secret affair with Mr. model over there. Seeing that you caught her lover's attention, it made her very…" he paused searching for the right word. "Uncomfortable." He finished. _No wonder there's no people on the left side of the room, it seems like our journalist was not the most hated after all._

I smiled at the mystery man and walked towards him. "There's a reason why it's called a secret affair." I said as I walk. I don't know what happened but it seems like he had managed to offend most people in the room.

I watch him look at my lower lip, my eyes, my ears, my collarbone, my arms, to my fingers down to my ankle then he flashed a confused look. _Ahhhh, this guy is the main cast._ I stopped a few inches from him and smiled at him suggestively. "Irene Adler." I said. "Have you figured me out? Mr. Detective." He raised an eyebrow. "I know you're an opera singer and that you've dated the prime minister." The man said as he intensely stares into my eyes, I stared back with equal intensity. "Sherlock Holmes." He said without breaking our little staring contest.

Everybody was silent and was just watching the two of us stare at each other until… "Ahem." We all turned to look at the source of the sound and saw Garland had entered the room. "Sirs and madams, dinner is ready."


	4. Chapter 4

Dinner was splendid and It was even better than most of the five star restaurant that I've eaten. It a five-course meal course with soup, salad, scallops, black sea bass for the main dish, and chocolate fondant for dessert.

During the dinner I had found out the identity of the two other guests. The unfashionable and shady looking young lady is Issy Ross. She's a renowned mystery author with the pen name of Emily Black; her books are always best selling in its first week of release. It was a bit disappointing and surprising, in an interesting way, that one of the best selling authors in mystery fictions would look so, I don't know how I would describe her… depressing? No wonder her books are always depressing, with the main character dying at the end or faced with a tragic event. She also has a bad habit of biting her nails every time she's nervous, which is all the time.

The other man, the one I saw standing by the window is Cullen Blake. A handsome young gentleman in his late twenties is a well-known investor and a billionaire. He doesn't talk much and has a mysterious aura around him, very similar to Mr. Holmes. Although he's polite, way more than Mr. Holmes of course, there's something about this man that is a bit off. I can't tell his intentions but he seems to be interested in our detective as I caught him observing Mr. Holmes.

We were about to finish our main course when Mr. Vance broke the silence. "So when is this Mr. Finch coming?" he asked turning at Garland who was just standing beside the door, close enough to tend to our impending needs.

"My employer has some things need to be done this night but as soon as his duties are accomplished he would be presenting himself. He hopes that you, sirs and madams, would enjoy your stay in the Golden Finch estate before his arrival. Before that, we, the servants, would give our best service to make your stay comfortable." The butler said politely. _Well that is if he plans to meet us at all. _

"Well that if he plans to meet us at all." I heard my thoughts actualized but figured that someone was just having the same thoughts when the other guests turned to Sherlock Holmes. Curiosity was flashed in their eyes then the journalist asked. "What do you mean by that Mr. Holmes?"

The detective looked at him with amused eyes. "It must be very comfortable for you people living in that little brains of yours, going here without knowing anything." I suppressed a laugh. This man should be thought how to act humane.

Some of the guests looked at him with offended eyes while some were surprised. The journalist raised a brow. "Care to emancipate us since you are so intelligent, Mr. Detective?"

Sherlock Holmes rolled his eyes. "All the evidences are presented to you yet you don't observe. Use whatever's left in your brains and think. Eleven people, most likely related to each other, are invited in a secluded island, with no means of leaving except the will of an invisible host. What do you think would happen?" Mr. Vance looked at him with confused eyes. "What do you mean?" The detective leered. " Seeing that we would not be able to leave the island for quite some time, the best case scenario is murder, journalist sir, murder." _That's true. Well if not, it's definitely something interesting._

"What makes you think that we would not be able to leave the island?" Mr. Vance inquired. Once again the detective rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should start watching the news, so we would have a use for you."

"I am the news."

"Yes indeed journalist sir, but of irrelevant facts." Okay, now I am trying very hard not to laugh. This man is just hilarious.

"You're a psychopath." The journalist spat. The detective was about to retort but I beat him to it.

"Sociopath" Mr. Holmes and the other guests turned to me. "A totally sexy sociopath." I said looking at the detective's gray orbs. The man looked surprise but I could see a tint of amusement. "High functioning is the adjective. Ms. Adler." Mr. Holmes said without breaking our eye contact, it lasted for almost a minute until Hector Kay cut off.

"Uuum, why don't you sing for us Ms. Adler?" He requested; most probably his attempt to ease the tensed atmosphere, a nice person through and through. "Yes Irene! You should sing for us!" Vivian exclaimed.

"Yes I haven't heard you sang live for a long time." The director added. "It would be an honor to hear the best contralto in the country to sing for us."

I smiled at them and said. "I would love to, but pity, I'm not very comfortable singing without accompaniment."

"Oh, I think Mr. Holmes plays the violin." We all turned to the butler. "I remember putting a violin in his room along with his other luggage. I could bring it here if you're fine with it, Mr. Holmes." The butler suggested. _So he plays the violin, now that's more interesting._

Sherlock Holmes flashed an irritated expression. "Why would I want to play the violin in front of these people?"

"Why Mr. Holmes? Are you unconfident in your musical skills? Don't worry, my singing is good enough to compensate." I said trying to stir him up. The man raised a brow. "Are you challenging me, Ms. Adler?"

"Oh yes Mr. Holmes, yes indeed." The man did not break from my intense gaze.

"Garland, bring my violin." _Got you. _

"Yes Mr. Holmes."

After a few minutes Garland came back with a black case and handed it to the detective. He opened it and revealed an old but well maintained violin. "Shall we start Ms. Adler?" He said standing up.

I grinned and stood up as well and went to the center of the room facing the dining table where our detective stood. "Bach's Erbarme Dich." I said looking at him. "Can you play it?"

He did not answer but instead he started playing the first movement. We were all stunned. _He's good_. I couldn't help but just stare at him and be awed. _Oh that's unexpected._ He has the skills on par with the best violinists. The music industry just lost an exceptional violinist when this man had decided to become a detective. I was lost in my thoughts and his astounding performance until he flashed a glance at me as a cue to my part.

_Erbarme dich, mein Gott,_ I started.

_um meiner Zähren willen!_

_Schaue hier, Herz und Auge_

_weint vor dir bitterlich._

_Erbarme dich, mein Gott._

The first part ended with us occasionally giving glimpses on each other until the rest of the song concluded.

_Erbarme dich, mein Gott,_

_um meiner Zähren willen!_

_Schaue hier, Herz und Auge_

_weint vor dir bitterlich._

_Erbarme dich, mein Gott._

After the song ended, the guests were speechless until someone stood and clapped followed by the others but me and the detective were completely lost in our world. "You're quite good." Sherlock Holmes said. I beamed at him suggestively. "Oh, you're not bad yourself Mr. Holmes." I replied.

"It would be troublesome if you underestimated me Ms. Adler." _Now I am very tempted to go through lengths to reveal what else this man has to show. _

"Have you ever lost to anyone Mr. Holmes?"

"Never Ms. Adler. Defeat is not my field of expertise." I can't help but chuckle at his reply. "Oh don't worry Mr. Holmes, there's always a first for everything." I said going back to my seat.

"That was wonderful Irene!" Vivian said. "Thank you Vivian."

"Splendid as ever. It's a shame you never agreed to my projects, I think you'll make a great actress as well." Roland commented. I saw Caroline rolled her eyes. That's why women are troublesome, such a strong instinct of competitiveness.

"I don't think I am fit to act Roland." I replied.

"So talented yet so humble, I am compelled." Mr. Ryder said suggestively with a wink. _Ugh, disgusting. Youth._

"Yes Ms. Adler! I've heard you sang from the telly before but I never imagined that the real performance was this… breath taking." The lawyer, Mr. Kay praised. "And Mr. Holmes was quite splendid as well! Are you a professional violinist?"

"Oh please." The detective replied uninterested while enjoying his dessert.

After the dinner, the guests stayed in the lounge except for the mysterious investor, the arrogant model, and the depressing novelist. I chose to stay as well since I still want to observe the other guests, besides, Mr. Holmes is staying as well. Me and the detective occupied the two single couches near the fireplace. No wonder he sits here, it's the best place to observe the guests.

After quite some time, I figured three things: first, Caroline Rayne and Ronald are definitely acquainted but are pretending to not know each other. I remember Caroline Rayne starred in one of the movies Ronald directed so they must know each other. Second, Vivian seems to be weary of the journalist, he must be black mailing her, but what for? The journalist seems to be black mailing other guests such as Caroline and Ronald but I do not see any connection between him and the designer. Lastly, everyone in this house must be connected to each other, directly or indirectly. There must be something more to these connections. I have to figure it out or I won't have pieces for the puzzle.

After an hour, I have decided to give up since it's probably the best I could get for tonight. I'll just wait for something to happen and the pieces would reveal themselves, it's not like I'm in a rush anyway. I am not here to save lives, solve a case or whatever, I'm just here as an audience after all.

I stood up and bid farewell to the other guests. I was already at the door when Mr. Holmes called for me and said that he would accompany me back to my room. I teased how he's such a gentleman and all he said was "Don't flatter yourself, I'm just also going back to my room." We walked to our rooms together, which happens to be conveniently across each other.

"Goodnight Mr. Holmes."

"Goodnight Ms. Adler." I heard him say before I completely closed the door.

_Now then, what should I do? _I went to my luggage and started fixing my things. I heard a rumble and looked out the window. _It must be the storm, it's coming._ I went towards the glass pane to look at the clouds and saw lightings and heavy clouds starting to multiply. I smiled at the sight; _shall we make things more interesting?_

* * *

"aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" I heard Vivian scream.

I went up from the bed and took a glimpse at my clock. It read, 6:45. The heavy clouds and the strong rain makes it hard to distinguish day from night. It seems like the storm had already made it to this place. I took my night robe and went out of my room. I easily found where the source of the commotion is, which is in the lounge, because I saw Mr. Kay, Caroline Rayne, Mr. Vance, Vince Ryder, Vivian and her husband outside the door.

I went inside and saw Mr. Holmes kneeling over the lying body of Ronald, with a tiny glass in hand. Judging from how he uses it, it must a magnifying glass of some sort.

I went over to check Ronald's body as well. From the looks of his lips and his complexion, it doesn't seem to me that I need to check his pulse. _He's dead. _

I examined the inside of his lips, his nape and fingertips. "It's poison." Said Mr. Holmes without looking up. "Yes, Cyanide poisoning." I added.

I felt Mr. Holmes stopped from what he's doing and glanced at me, I didn't bother looking back for I was busy looking for the source of the poison. "How do you know its Cyanide?" I eyed him, _is he suspecting me? _The thought made me grin.

"That dark pink skin and that black vomit around his lips." I started.

He looked at me with curious eyes. "Yes those are symptoms of Cyanide but it could also be Mercury, Arsenic and Belladonna."

"The smell of bitter almond Mr. Holmes." I said. "Cyanide." I continued and finished with a wink.

"The police! Call the police!" Vince Ryder hollered. "It's pointless. The police or anybody on that matter can't go here." The detective said. _He's right. _"Vivian Call Garland." I instructed the dumbfounded designer, snapping her back to reality.

Vivian did not waste another minute and rushed to look for the butler. After a couple of minutes she went back alone. "He's not here, even the other servants are not here." _Oh crap._

I heard Mr. Holmes rushed to the telephone and made a troubled face. _Even the lines are cut huh? Now what do we do?_

* * *

All the guests are now gathered on the right wing lounge for we cannot move the body of Ronald from the left wing lounge and nobody really wants to stay in a room with a corpse in it, maybe except a particular guest.

The right wing lounge was pretty much the same as the left, the furniture, the paint, the designs, everything is identical except positioned oppositely. Me and Mr. Holmes sat beside the fire place while the rest was on the other side of the room. It's funny because if Ronald was here it would be exactly like before, it seems like everyone had marked their place. _Now the problem is, what do we do now?_

First, I have to sort out what happened. Ronald has been poisoned and is now dead. All the lines of the telephone had been purposely cut and the weather is disrupting the signal from our mobile phones. We cannot go out of the house either for the same reason. The most peculiar however is that there are no signs of any of Mr. Finch's servants. I checked the dock from my window even the yacht is not there anymore. Well it's not like we could use it with this weather. The best we could do is to stay put and wait for the storm to subside.

Regarding the death of Ronald, I can only think of two possibilities, it's either he was killed by the servants of Mr. Finch, or one of the guests killed him, but that hardly matters to me. I'm not that interested on who killed who, I'm more interested in the reactions of the people in this room.

Vivian, her husband, Mr. Ryder and Mr. Kay seems to be acting normally. Distress of the situation and a little bit of fear, especially Vivian but she's being comforted by her husband so she'll be fine. The journalist doesn't seem to care or even astound by the situation, I could even say he seems to be in high spirits.

The businessman doesn't seem to care either, although, he seems to be interested in Sherlock, who is sitting next to me palms together and looking at the other guests, for I could see him occasionally glimpse at the detective in the corner of his eyes.

The bizarre reactions came from the novelist, Issy Ross and the actress, Caroline Rayne. They are eliciting symptoms of intensive fear and anxiety. Fear and anxiety is reasonable considering the situation but what they're showing is a bit over board. Caroline just sat there looking down with shaking arms, while the novelist was constantly biting her finger nails while time to time looking at the other guests specifically, Sherlock. _I have an idea about the novelist but I'm not sure about Caroline, I need a link between her and Ronald. _

"It's that Mr. Finch! He's trying to kill us!" said the young model. "Let's not jump into conclusions." Replied by Mr. Holmes. "Then where are the servants?" cried Mr. Ryder. "It's probable that they are involve but may also not be the case." The detective stated uninterested.

"What are you implying Mr. Holmes?" The journalist said calmly. "Are you saying that one of us is the killer?"

"That is also a possibility."

"I know who killed him." We all turned to the source of the voice and saw the novelist stood from her chair.

"It's him!" She said pointing to Mr. Holmes.

"Why would you think that sweetheart?" I asked. "Last night, I saw him outside talking to Mr. Davies from my window." She stated.

Everyone is now looking suspiciously at Mr. Holmes. I controlled myself not to laugh at how these people are so easily arrived at conclusions with misleading evidences. I observed how Mr. Holmes would react but he did not respond much. He must be used to being accused. _Pity, I was expecting something more interesting than that. _

"So what are you doing outside Mr. Detective?" The journalist inquired.

"A letter." The detective started. "Someone sent me a letter."

"And where is this letter now?"

The detective paused for quite some time until he replied. "It's gone."

"What? Are you expecting us to believe that a letter just disappeared on its own? Aren't you really the killer Mr. Holmes? You're just playing detective to avert suspicion!" the journalist accused.

"And he was the first person who saw the body!" Vivian cried.

"But he was the one who suggested that the culprit could be one of us? Isn't that a disadvantage?" The investor defended.

"He could just be doing that to avoid suspicion, he's a smart man, and it's very likely for him to do that." The Journalist insisted. "He even knows the cause of death and even knew that something's going to happen here. I don't think someone's smart enough to do that." _Well I knew how he died too and probably even more than Mr. Holmes, if anybody's interested. _I saw Mr. Holmes roll his eyes. I suppressed a laugh.

"I say we should restrain him in his room. It's for our safety, I don't want to walk around the house with a killer." Vivian suggested.

"I saw cuffs on the left wing lounge." Said Vince Ryder.

"Wait, we shouldn't be too hasty to accuse people!" the lawyer shouted putting himself between Mr. Holmes and Mr. Vance. _Of course. _I thought rolling my eyes. _The self righteous one, they are pleasing in their own ways, but always end up dying._ "Without concrete evidence we shouldn't accuse people."

"So what are you saying that we let him free until one of us dies again?" Mr. Vance argued. The lawyer was still reluctant but admit defeat.

After most of the guests agreed to restrict Mr. Holmes they cuffed him and locked him in his room. The detective did not make any resistance. _How foolish, the facts are already staring at them in the face but they still come up with ridiculous conclusions. _

I let them all talk and figure out what to do from now on while I sat in my chair across the fireplace and watch a stack of paper burn.

* * *

It has been ten hours since they detained Mr. Holmes and it's already dinnertime. Since there were no staffs, we were left to cook on our own. Thankfully there were more than enough supplies that would last us for quite some time. Since I was the best cook I took the job on making dinner. After I presented dinner, I took another servings and brought it to the detective's room.

When I finally I arrived at the door, I knocked twice and let myself in. Mr. Holmes was sitting on his bed with both palms together and appears to be in deep though since he does not seem to have noticed my presence.

"Good evening Mr. Holmes." I greeted bringing down the plate to the side table.

"I am in no need for food Ms. Adler. It gets in the way of my thinking."

"No matter how intelligent you are Mr. Holmes, you cannot build bricks without clay. Since you are detained you have no way of gathering data. So might as well take on my offer." I said.

"Even if I want to Ms. Adler my hands will not let me." He said referring to his cuffs.

"Oh don't worry, Mr. Holmes. I can help you with that." I said suggestively. He looked at me irritated. "Now say ah." I said offering him the risotto I made.

"No thank you Ms. Adler. I'd rather starve." I rolled my eyes _why does he have to be so boring?_ "So uptight Mr. Holmes." I put the fork back to the plate and took out the key to his cuffs.

He narrowed his eyes. "You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"Oh yes Mr. Holmes. I'm enjoying seeing that troubled face of yours," I teased. I removed his cuffs and handed him the plate.

"That's not a very smart move Ms. Adler. You're letting a suspect free without the security of another person. With the difference in our strength, I only need to put the right amount of pressure in your throat and I could snap your neck." He said.

I chuckled and looked at him with amused eyes. "Yes, Mr. Holmes, I am very much aware that you are capable of doing that but I highly doubt that you would."

He looked at me with curious eyes. "Isn't it more logical to believe that I am the suspect? Given all the evidence and even a witness." He said.

"Logical? I don't think so. Aren't you framed? As a matter of fact, it's more logical to let you free for a higher probability of naming the perpetrator."

"You actually believe that someone sent me a letter and that it disappeared?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

"Well of course Mr. Holmes, I do believe you." I said. "I was, after all, the one who sent you that letter." I continued. His reaction was priceless. _It was worth the trouble after all. _

"You treacherous woman!" He cried in disbelief. "It's the most interesting case in a while and you just rid me of the opportunity."

I laughed at his grimace. "Well if someone dies again you would have all the freedom to roam around. You should thank me even, I just made this game more interesting for you." His frown didn't leave his face. _He's so adorable when he's sulking. _"Why would you even want to frame me?"

"Well isn't that the most logical conclusion is that I am the suspect?"

Mr. Holmes rolled his eyes. "Nonsense. You wouldn't be telling me all this if you are and the balance of probability tells me that it's not the case."

I laughed. "Well I am interested in how you would react if you were to be accused."

"You're a psychopath."

"Oh dear me Mr. Holmes, it's rude to call people a psychopath." I teased. "I prefer you call it professional curiosity."

"I thought you're an opera singer?" he asked seemingly lost to our conversation.

"Oh please spare me Mr. Holmes. That's just a hobby_." I wouldn't waste all my time with such a boring profession. _"I'm a psychiatrist." I continued. "And I am very interested to know what's going on in that sexy brain of yours."


End file.
